


The Usual Rate

by compo67



Series: Chicago Verse [130]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Dialogue-Only, Emotionally Repressed Dean Winchester, Emotionally Stable Dean Winchester, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Feels, Growing Old Together, Growing Up, Guilt, M/M, Old Married Couple, Personal Growth, Shame, Sibling Incest, Slice of Life, Soulmates, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-24 10:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18569380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: Dean reschedules a therapy session.





	The Usual Rate

 

“I’m pleased to see you this afternoon, Dean.”

“Yeah. Same. Thanks. I mean, thank you for, you know, moving things around.”

“No trouble at all. You usually don’t book afternoon appointments.”

“No, I’m not. I don’t. If I have to talk about my… emotions, it’s better to start early.”

“Well, it’s a nice change of pace to see you in the afternoon. So. What are we here to work on today?”

“You go right for the throat, huh?”

“My clients tend to favor that approach. Should we start elsewhere and work our way back?”

“Yeah, ‘elsewhere’ sounds good. Uh. I’m still working on the Camaro.”

“That’s right, how goes it?”

“Like shit, to be honest.”

“Does its owner still present a challenge?”

“Yes--its owner still presents a challenge. But by that I mean if I see him in the shop one more time this week, I have no choice but to punch him.”

“Interesting how frustrating our interactions with others can be.”

“With civilians.”

“Yes, interactions with civilians. Was it difficult adjusting to civilians?”

“Difficult? I’m a peach.”

“It’s good to see your sarcasm isn’t limited to morning hours.”

“Okay, it was tough.”

“In what way?”

“Ehh, you know, the group of people I grew up with, we don’t hug unless the world’s ending. We don’t keep photo albums or go to baptisms or hide Easter eggs.”

“Would you like to?”

“Are you kidding? I personally hid three hundred Easter eggs at the ass crack of dawn on Sunday. I do that kind of sh-stuff now. But yeah, when we first moved here, I thought it was weird. I just wanted to be in a house or some kind of stationary place with Sam and that was it. I didn’t really think about anything else.”

“What else?”

“Like, when you buy a house there’s all this other stuff with it.”

“Ah, like expenses.”

“Well, no, that I got. I mean more like you don’t just say hi to the neighbors. You fucking know the neighbors. Can I tell you measurements if I need a new suit? Nope. I don’t know any of those numbers. But can I tell you it was Kristina’s tenth birthday two weeks ago? Yeah. That stuff.”

“Expanding your social circle and maintaining meaningful relationships with others can serve as a gauge for how well we’re doing.”

“I got her a new bike. The kind with the basket on the front. The most obnoxiously pink thing. Looks like I covered it in Pepto.”

“Do you regularly buy gifts for your neighbors?”

“Yeah, because they bring me stuff all the time. They always have. I grew up in motels. The less you knew about the people next door, trust me, the better.”

“Very true. Did you help with other Easter activities?”

“If you’re asking if I wore the bunny suit, rest easy--I didn’t.”

“Should I ask who did or should we move on?”

“Between you and me?”

“Safe space, Dean.”

“Heh, okay, well there has never been a taller Easter bunny than the bunny this year.”

“Ah ha, how fortunate for the community.”

“I took so many pictures.”

“You’ve been enjoying yourself lately. You seem lighter.”

“Well, I did lose a bit around the belt.”

“Lighter in other ways, I meant.”

“Yeah, no, I gotcha. I just, you know, deflect.”

“Deflecting can be one of our most accessible and least confrontational coping skills. I can see why you’d favor it.”

“...yes.”

“Do you ever miss motels?”

“Not a lot. Not really. I don’t miss our shit everywhere, touching fuck knows what, or mold on the bath mat. Or those beds. I like the sheets I bought on clearance last year. Percale. And the jersey sheets I bought for winter.”

“It sounds like there might be a ‘but’ at the end of that.”

“Fuck, I have the sense of humor of a fifth grader. Yeah, okay, there’s a but. You grow up in shady places, you think you are a shady person. Does that even make sense.”

“Absolutely. Keep going.”

“I… every motel has the same issue. It’s not the water pressure or the stale coffee or the questionable stains. I mean, okay, it is, but what always got me? What I always noticed, without fail, was how fucked up the mirrors were. I don’t think I ever saw a sparkling clean mirror in any of the places we stayed at. All of them had some kind of scum or film on them, either directly on the surface or behind it. Or water stains. Or sometimes it’d just be cracked and no one bothered to replace it because why would you? Someone’s just gonna bust it up again.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I guess. I guess that never really stopped me from looking in the mirror.”

“It didn’t.”

“No, because I could still see myself. Maybe. In fragments. But I was there still. And it’s not like I needed a fancy ass salon.”

“Yes.”

“So I thought. Well, this weekend I was thinking about this. In a sense of like. What if… I’m okay with… things? What if, I’m okay with the broken mirror?”

“Is it broken or is it different?”

“...touche.”

“Maybe some people prefer fragments. Maybe that’s a stylistic choice.”

“I’ve seen sh-stuff like that at the flea market, yeah.”

“So, not broken.”

“No. Different. Different is good.”

“Would you like to let that sink in?”

“I’ll write it down. You got a pen?”

“Of course.”

“Look at my ass, taking notes.”

“I am impressed.”

“There. Good, you should be. That’s progress.”

“It is indeed. Let’s circle back.”

“Right for the throat again, huh?”

“Circle back.”

“Okay. Alright. I’ve said a bunch of other deeply personal stuff to you, why not continue. Okay. I was just thinking. Well. You know who I am.”

“Yes.”

“No, I mean, _you_ know who I am.”

“Yes, Dean. I _know_ who you are.”

“I’m just saying--so you know who I am and who Sam is. And sometimes. I think about it. Maybe I don’t so much as think about it as I do berate myself with guilt and shame, but you know.”

“That seems to be a pattern. Have you found it productive?”

“Fuck no. I mean--no. It’s not. I know it’s not. All it does is get me all tense and anxious and who the fuck needs that when I’m just trying to enjoy the fact that I hid Juan’s keys in one of the Easter eggs.”

“You--well, let’s stay focused.”

“He had it coming.”

“Focus.”

“What if, in my case, in my very, incredibly specific case, what if it’s okay that I’m… that I’m in a… well, the most healthy relationship in my life? What if that’s okay.”

“What if it is?”

“That’s just it. What if it is? I’m. Not. Maybe. Fuck, I sound like Shatner.”

“What inspired these thoughts?”

“We watched a Western the other day.”

“Ah.”

“Just two brothers, outlaws, contract killers, you know. I saw ‘em up on screen and kept thinking, ‘That’s Sammy. That’s me. That’s what we sound like. That’s shit we do.’ But I was also pretty sure they didn’t kiss and share the same bed at the end of the day.”

“Are you circling back to shame and guilt?”

“I see that, but I’m goddamn determined to veer the fuck away from that. No. I don’t want to feel guilty or ashamed. I never did. I also… never wanted someone to accuse Sam of being a freak.”

“Just Sam?”

“I don’t give a shit who calls me what.”

“Hold that thought. What would happen if you looked at your relationship with Sam in a different light? From a different perspective? Other than the one you’ve always had?”

“I… yeah. I want to. I wanna start. Like the mirror stuff. It’s not broken, just different. It doesn’t have to be replaced. I can work with it. And just because I grew up with that, doesn’t mean I have to have a busted mirror in my own house.”

“Absolutely. So where do you go from here?”

“I know I earned a motherfucking paleta today.”

“Yes, I’d say you did.”

“Maybe I just, think to myself that no one in the world is ever gonna be right for me the way Sam is right for me.”

“And vice versa.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad you asked to make time today.”

“Same here. Thank you, you know, for fitting me in.”

Sam smiles and stretches out on the couch. He bumps their knees together. “I’ll send you my bill.”

“Okay.” Dean leans over. He pauses, their mouths only an inch apart. It’s here that he can feel the magnetic pull. The pulse. The rhythm. “The usual rate?”

Dimples flash.

“The usual rate, Dean.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> remember these two??? i had this idea tonight at random and just went with it. XD
> 
> also, hi! i'm still alive!


End file.
